Odes 4.9 (Gladstone): Ne Forte Credas

Think not these words are doomed to die
Which, wedded to the tuneful string,
With newborn arts of minstrelsy
From sounding Aufidus I sing.

If Homer on the throne be set,
Stesichorus is stately still,
Alcaeus brave; and Pindar yet,
And Cean song their places fill.

The sportive tales Anacreon told
Years have not blurred. Love cannot die,
And warms to-day, and warmed of old
Th' Aeolian maiden's poesy.

Were there like Spartan Helen none
That loved the trim adulterer's hair,
The gold upon his vestments spun,
His train, his port, of royal air?

Was Teucer first to learn the use
Of Cretan shafts? Was Troy subdued
At once? Fought huge Idomeneus,
Or Sthenelos, in solitude?

War is the Muse's theme. Not first
Deiphobus, or Hector's rage,
For their pure spouses dared the worst,
Or did for children battle wage.

Ere Agamemnon saw the light
There lived brave men: but tearless all,
Enfolded in eternal night,
For lack of sacred minstrels, fall.

Test hidden baseness, buried worth;
'Tis little odds. So, Lollius, I
Will set thy deeds and virtues forth;
Too many and too great to die,

And moulder, dark Oblivion's prey.
Thou hast a soul for high affairs,
Art formed to hold unchanged thy way,
When Fortune smiles, or Fortune scares.

O scourge of greed and trick, O freed
From Money's all-absorbing sway,
Who, whensoe'er the State had need,
No consul of the year or day,

Took'st not the useful for the good,
Flung'st back the guilty gift with scorn,
Through adverse hosts along thy way
In Virtue's arms triumphant borne.

Not him wilt thou for happy bless,
Whose goods are large. Far happier he,
Who shall for wisdom's use possess
The bounties that the gods decree.

And pinching poverty can bear,
And baseness more than death can dread.
For love of friends, or country's care,
That man will gladly give his head.